


better

by poalimal



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Ableism, Boundaries & Bridges, Extremely Ignorable Implied D/s, Fake Vegan, Gen, M/M, Mild Angst, Not Quite Functional Exes, Snippet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-05-15 00:27:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14780151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poalimal/pseuds/poalimal
Summary: Jack's a fuckin' idiot if he thinks his boyfriend would actually be fine with the two of them here.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A snippet from a longer AU I will probably not finish.

 

 

They end the night in some hole-in-the-wall greasebucket. Kent's as much of a regular as his diet can stand, which means he can usually afford to visit once every...eh, three-and-a-half weeks.

« But what will _your_ trainer say, Kent chirps, chewing a fry till it's mush in his mouth. He's got a slew of bruises all up and down his back, a growing headache, and absolutely no idea how they ended up here.

— Oh, I thought you didn't speak French anymore, Jack chirps back ».

Kent glances out the window, not realising he had. He probably should've sat in the other chair, underneath the fan. It's boiling in here.

'Kenny?' Jack says softly, touching his wrist. Kent stares at him, watching the top of his hair stir in the little wind, the grease gleaming on his lips, the calm setting of his shoulders; and he feels a familiar stupid fucking ache start to build up in his stomach.

'I don't,' Kent replies. He pulls his hands back. 'How's Eric?'

Jack stares at him evenly. 'He's good,' he says. 'We're good.' Kent feels his head go up and down like a bobblehead. Great-great-great. 'How's...Jeff, is it?'

Swoops? 'He's good? I guess,' Kent mumbles distractedly, looking down at his burger. Jack had put in both their orders without even asking. Well, joke's on him, 'cus Kent's fake vegan for the week. Kelly said he couldn't do it, so, _obviously_ \--

'Does he know about you?' says Jack.

Kent tries not to scowl. He didn't come here to fight; he doesn't know why he did come here, why he didn't just go home when he saw Jack step over the VIP rope without waiting for it to be opened - but he knows he didn't come here to fight. 'I haven't told him about you, if that's what you're really asking.'

'No, Parse,' says Jack. 'Does he know about you? About what you need?'

Kent swallows, dry; glances around to see if anyone's looking. Lubna's on the phone, watching the tenth fucking hour of a cricket match. Someone in the back is laughing. Jack nudges Kent's feet apart and they are all alone.

'Fuck,' Kent hisses, hot all the way up to his face.

Jack shrugs. 'We can.'

Kent stares.

'I talked to Bitty about it,' Jack says. 'He said it would be fine.'   
  
He's calm, looking at Kent like-- like it wouldn't make a difference to him either way. Kent could say anything, probably. And why would Jack care? After all, he's got Bitty, right? He's got a whole life that would be-- that _is_ perfectly fine without Kent in it, that has been perfectly fine without him in it. For years.

And that's good, right? Co-dependency really fucks you up. Good for Jack. Kent knuckles at the hollow of his eyes, collapsing back against his seat.

Yea. Good for him.

He opens his eyes and sees that Jack's looking a little alarmed. Ha! Kent actually does laugh a little, finds that he's smiling at the end of it.

'Ahh, don't go doing me any favours, Zimms,' he says, finally, shaking his head. 'Can't you even eat a burger without getting all nostalgic?' He sees Jack open his mouth, and rambles on, hoping to cut him off at the pass. 'Hey, did I tell you I'm vegan now?' He twirls a finger above his basket. 'I can't even eat this shit, ha ha.'

Jack runs through six or so expressions before finally settling on what looks like exasperation. 'You're _vegan_ now? So why'd you even pick this place?'

'I like the vibe,' Kent shrugs, relaxing against the steady wall of Jack's disbelief. 'And, well, you know. Old habits die hard.' You fuckin' cliche, he thinks, mercilessly.

'Just 'cus something's old,' says Jack, clumsy, 'doesn't make it wrong.'

Kent slants an unimpressed look at him. 'If you didn't want to talk about my diet, you could've just fuckin' said so.'

Jack tilts his head. 'Sort of feels like you're trying to pick a fight here,' he says, slowly. Gee, why would Kent be doing that? 'I thought we would be able to talk about this. Can you look at me, please? Parse?' And he takes Kent's hand in his.

It takes a specific kind of man to humiliate Kent these days, but god - Jack's always been the type.

'Ok, so...What I deserve?' says Kent, staring down hard at their hands, memorising the look of them, 'is something you can't offer. And that's. Uh...not really anybody's fault.' He pulls his hand free. 'But you should stop asking.'

And that's the last time Kent sees Jack up-close and off the ice for almost two years.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He doesn't mean to, you know. Count up the times they see each other. It's just habit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh. A longer snippet, which includes Chapter 1 in its proper place. References to manic episodes. And you may recognise in Jack's need to overclarify a symptom of anxiety.

 

A gay club is probably the last place Kent imagined running into Jack again.

He blinks, follows the tug of laughter he hears from over Jack's tense shoulder; sees a few Facebook familiar faces ducked in close together back in the far corner. Looks like they're having fun: Jasmyn's carrying not one, but two trays of fresh sparkling drinks.

Blake squeezes his hand questioningly. Kent grins over at him, half-shrugging the twinge in his chest away and finally, finally meeting Jack's eyes.

Predictably, three seconds later he panics.

'Later, Zimms,' he says, all obnoxious ha-ha high-pitched bullshit. Jack's eyes narrow. Kent turns around and flees.

'Old friend?' Blake says, laughing a bit, as Kent all but shoves him into the bathroom.

In lieu of answering, Kent locks the door and drops to his knees.

 

* * *

 

 _It wasn't what it looked like_ , reads a 3.13AM text from an unknown number. _I was with a group of friends_.

 _uhh? who's this lol_ , Kent responds.

 _It's Jack_.

Then, 2 seconds later, as if Kent might think it was his dead great-uncle Jack, risen from the grave to party with his friends: _Zimmerman_.

_haha it's cool man i figured it was something like that_

_Eric and I are very happy together. I didn't want you to get the wrong idea_.

Eric and I are very happy together, what the fuck.

_cool good for you man B^)_

He falls asleep before Jack responds: _Don't you think you should be more careful?_

 

* * *

 

Morning after and his tio thinks he's manic when they finally Facetime, he's grinning so hard. God.

All these fuckin' years and Jack Zimmerman still disapproves of him. The more things change, right?

 

* * *

 

Their first practice together, Kent slapshot a goal in right over Jack's head, hoping to impress him, shake him up, _something_. Jack didn't even blink. In the locker room he spoke with Marty about arrogance, as if Kent hadn't grown up speaking Spanish, as if he hadn't been rooming and playing with white French-speaking assholes for three endless fucking months already. Well, Jack remembered his English pretty quick when Kent threw his water bottle at him.

Yea, they didn't get on _at all_ those first few weeks - so it didn't make sense that they clicked on the ice immediately, that Jack yanked open the edges of his awareness till Kent passed without looking, the unshakeable sense of rightness going straight through him even before he opened his eyes again and saw Jack blowing right past him with the puck.

 

* * *

 

The next time they meet is on the ice. Kiezy snags a hatty off Kent's assist, the crowd goes nuts, Kiezy presses a huge happy kiss to Kent's forehead. Swoops hugs him from the back, sweaty and smiling, talking 'bout how they're both gonna clean- _up_ tonight.

Jack watches them closely across the ice, face as illegible as ever. Kent twists around on his skates with a laugh, shoving Swoops away, trying his best to shrug off the stare.

 

* * *

 

They end the night in some hole-in-the-wall greasebucket. Kent's as much of a regular as his diet can stand, which means he can usually afford to visit once every...eh, three-and-a-half weeks.

« But what will  _your_  trainer say, Kent chirps, chewing a fry till it's mush in his mouth. He's got a slew of bruises all up and down his back, a growing headache, and absolutely no idea how they ended up here.

— Oh, I thought you didn't speak French anymore, Jack chirps back ».

Kent glances out the window, not realising he had. He probably should've sat in the other chair, underneath the fan. It's boiling in here.

'Kenny?' Jack says softly, touching his wrist. Kent stares at him, watching the top of his hair stir in the little wind, the grease gleaming on his lips, the calm setting of his shoulders; and he feels a familiar stupid fucking ache start to build up in his stomach.

'I don't,' Kent replies. He pulls his hands back. 'How's Eric?'

Jack stares at him evenly. 'He's good,' he says. 'We're good.' Kent feels his head go up and down like a bobblehead. Great-great-great. 'How's...Jeff, is it?'

Swoops? 'He's good? I guess,' Kent mumbles distractedly, looking down at his burger. Jack had put in both their orders without even asking. Well, joke's on him, 'cus Kent's fake vegan for the week. Kelly said he couldn't do it, so,  _obviously_ \--

'Does he know about you?' says Jack.

Kent tries not to scowl. He didn't come here to fight; he doesn't know why he did come here, why he didn't just go home when he saw Jack step over the VIP rope without waiting for it to be opened - but he knows he didn't come here to fight. 'I haven't told him about you, if that's what you're really asking.'

'No, Parse,' says Jack. 'Does he know about you? About what you need?'

Kent swallows, dry; glances around to see if anyone's looking. Lubna's on the phone, watching the tenth fucking hour of a cricket match. Someone in the back is laughing. Jack nudges Kent's feet apart and they are all alone.

'Fuck,' Kent hisses, hot all the way up to his face.

Jack shrugs. 'We can.'

Kent stares.

'I talked to Bitty about it,' Jack says. 'He said it would be fine.'   
  
He's calm, looking at Kent like-- like it wouldn't make a difference to him either way. Kent could say anything, probably. And why would Jack care? After all, he's got Bitty, right? He's got a whole life that would be-- that  _is_  perfectly fine without Kent in it, that has been perfectly fine without him in it. For years.

And that's good, right? Co-dependency really fucks you up. Good for Jack. Kent knuckles at the hollow of his eyes, collapsing back against his seat.

Yea. Good for him.

He opens his eyes and sees that Jack's looking a little alarmed. Ha! Kent actually does laugh a little, finds that he's smiling at the end of it.

'Ahh, don't go doing me any favours, Zimms,' he says, finally, shaking his head. 'Can't you even eat a burger without getting all nostalgic?' He sees Jack open his mouth, and rambles on, hoping to cut him off at the pass. 'Hey, did I tell you I'm vegan now?' He twirls a finger above his basket. 'I can't even eat this shit, ha ha.'

Jack runs through six or so expressions before finally settling on what looks like exasperation. 'You're  _vegan_  now? So why'd you even pick this place?'

'I like the vibe,' Kent shrugs, relaxing against the steady wall of Jack's disbelief. 'And, well, you know. Old habits die hard.' You fuckin' cliche, he thinks, mercilessly.

'Just 'cus something's old,' says Jack, clumsy, 'doesn't make it wrong.'

Kent slants an unimpressed look at him. 'If you didn't want to talk about my diet, you could've just fuckin' said so.'

Jack tilts his head. 'Sort of feels like you're trying to pick a fight here,' he says, slowly. Gee, why would Kent be doing that? 'I thought we would be able to talk about this. Can you look at me, please? Parse?' And he takes Kent's hand in his.

It takes a specific kind of man to humiliate Kent these days, but god - Jack's always been the type.

'Ok, so...What I deserve?' says Kent, staring down hard at their hands, memorising the look of them, 'is something you can't offer. And that's. Uh...not really anybody's fault.' He pulls his hand free. 'But you should stop asking.'

And that's the last time Kent sees Jack up-close and off the ice for almost two years.

 

* * *

 

Jack shows up at the funeral. Kent has told exactly five people about his dad and none of them are even here for him to yell at.

Still, he says, 'thanks for coming,' when Jack approaches, takes the flowers from him, accepts his condolences without fuss. Kelly says something, Jack sits on the other side of the church, Mom and Franci talk to each other the whole service long.

Dad had a whole other family, apparently, and he never said nothing to nobody, not to Mom, not to his own brother, and certainly not to Kent. Well. Not like he said a single word to Kent after he got signed, ha.

'He didn't want you to think he was after anything from you,' Franci says, back at the old house. He's feeding Luz. Kent's washing the dishes to get away from looking at them. 'But he was so proud of you, Kenny. He was so proud.'

Kent hmm's under his breath; bites his tongue. Franci's a widower now, he's grieving. He doesn't know what the fuck he's talking about.

Isa runs circles around Kent in the backyard, dissolving into laughter everytime he fumbles with the soccer ball. The ball's flat from years of not playing, sure - but the alternative is going back inside and making small talk with people he hasn't seen in decades.

Between the two of them, he and Isa, they make it work.

 

* * *

 

He wakes up in his childhood twin bed at 2.27AM. One of those weird nights. There's a calendar reminder to Facetime Margy in five hours and three minutes. Two midnight texts from Swoops: _Your cat is a demon!_ , followed by a photo of Kit sitting nearly on his head. Cute.

After he closes out Kit's Instagram, he puts down his phone and decides, all at once, that he's going out for a smoke. He hasn't needed to in years. He remembers that it used to help, sometimes, when he got to feeling like this.

The convenience store isn't too far at all, just a little under a mile away. The cool air sort of helps clear his head. The clerk has on a Rangers wristband; she stares at him the whole time like she's trying to place him. Kent tries to distract her by flirting outrageously. He's not too sure it works.

He starts speedwalking half-way through, anxious for no good reason, just wanting to get off the side of the road. He's learnt to let himself stay in his head for a bit. So he's startled when he comes back to himself at the foot of the driveway and sees Jack Zimmerman, standing on his porch. He's tall as ever, big and broad and handsome as fuck.

Is this really happening? Ken thought he'd imagined him at the funeral, somehow.

'Hey, Zimms,' he says, trying for a smile. Jack doesn't smile back, just comes down the stairs toward him. Oh Jesus Christ. 'How, uh. How was your flight?'

'I took the train,' says Jack, still coming towards him. 'It was quick.'

'Er, ah? That's cool,' Kent scrambles, backing up a little, 'did you want to,' he gestures helplessly, 'I was just gonna--'

'Parse,' says Jack, taking him by the back of the neck and tugging him in, 'calm down.'

Kent takes in a long, shuddering breath. For one second, and then maybe one more, he lets himself feel surrounded by Jack, by his arms, by his wholly unfuckingfamiliar cologne.

'Ah,' he gasps, 'thanks, Zimms.' He pulls back; Jack doesn't quite let him. 'How's, uh. How's the Missus doing?'

Jack laughs, deep in his chest; Kent feels it roll all throughout him. He closes his eyes. 'He's fine. He sends pie.'

'You're hiding pie?' Kent mumbles, trying not to cling. Jack tightens his grip. 'You fucker. Why didn't you lead with that.'

'I'm not hiding anything,' Jack says softly.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wasn't thrilled about Kent's father's arc in this tbh. There was really no space for Kent to reasonably discover how deeply closeted his father was, and how he had hidden his relationship from everyone he knew out of shame - so of course, it just came off like he was a deadbeat. Trying to come to terms with who you are and what you want in a relationship doesn't absolve you of responsibilities to your children, of course. I'm just q leery of the absent or unsupportive black/brown dad pattern I keep seeing in this fandom.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the Kelela song.


End file.
